


His John

by Khylara



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22902514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khylara/pseuds/Khylara
Summary: When did he become his John?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 56





	His John

There was a gun pointed in his face again. A gun, in his face. He was going to get shot again and it would have been all for nothing. His heartache, his grief. the one thing he wanted to do and now he would never be able to.

It would have been laughable if it wasn't also so pathetic.

 _Sherlock...stay away,_ John couldn't help thinking. _Stay far, far away from all this._ He hoped Sherlock would hear him, that somewhere, somehow he was listening as he always did. _Please, my love...stay away if you can._

"John, I'm coming!"

That familiar, beloved voice begging him to hang on, to just have a little faith in him. I'm here, he thought, clutching at hope with his fingertips. Sherlock love...I'm here.

Whoever it was - john wasn't sure of her identity - brandished the gun as she yelled threats into the air, demanding to see the Queen, The Prime Minister, anyone who would listen to her ravings. He could feel a headache beginning to form somewhere behind his left eye and his leg ached from being dragged out of the taxi on the way to dinner. _I can't take much more of this._

Just then a pair of bright lights shined directly into his eyes and he obeyed his partner's unspoken command. he went to his knees, taking her off balance and the gun flying into the gutter. She was next to him a moment later, screaming as she was arrested by Lestrade. "Get off me!" she cried out, writhing under him. "Off!"

 _Not bloody likely,_ John thought as he was helped to his feet and pulled into strong arms. He let himself relax as he closed his eyes and buried his head in Sherlock's chest. Safe. he was safe.

"Are you all right?' Sherlock asked, his voice anxious as he looked the doctor over. "Did she hurt you in any way? I'll have her liver if she did."

 _What would you do with that?_ John mused, a little giddy. "i'm all right, he said, patting his friend's chest. It was warm, solid and smelled of finely milled French soap and expensive cologne. "What kept you?"

"Lestrade was having dinner with my brother, of all people,' Sherlock managed to look disgusted. "I don't know what he was thinking, Mycroft will eat him alive with caramel sauce."

"Maybe he likes that sort of thing,' John said, letting himself relax a little more. He watched as Lestrade picked her up by her collar and throw her into the panda waiting on the corner. "Do we know who she is?"

"A woman named Susan from Lincolnshire," Sherlock said, dismissing her entirely as he hailed a cab, "Lestrade will take care of her. Come on, my John. We'll get you back to Baker street and I'll make you some tea." 

"Tea sounds lovely,' john said as he walked. He stopped suddenly, what Sherlock had just said finally sinking in. 

His John.

When had he become his John?

"Sherlock?" He looked up; he had to know and he had to know now. "What you just said...when did I become your John?"

A look of complete horror crossed Sherlock's face. "Not here," he finally said as he opened the cab door and bustled John inside. "It's not private. When we get home."

John nodded as he let himself be driven away, his eyes never leaving Sherlock's face. _Almost mine,_ he thought, letting himself want to touch, to hold, to love. _Almost._

The thought comforted him all the way home.

*****

Mrs. Hudson fussed over the pair of them for over ten minutes before she went downstairs, promising biscuits to go with the tea. Sherlock followed after her a moment later, pleading weariness on both of their parts and promising to try her new recipe in the morning before coming back up the stairs to make John his promised tea.

John watched him as Sherlock moved around the kitchen, pulling down tea cups, getting out milk and sugar and honey, putting the little silver tea strainer in hot water. It was a comforting gesture, reminding John of warm winter nights and too much chocolate and a cheery fire. It was enough to make his head spin.

"John?" Sherlock handed over a cup and saucer, the spoon delicately balanced on the gold fluted edge.

"Thanks." John took a sip and sighed. "Perfect."

Sherlock sat down next to him on the sofa, his cup balanced in his hands. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked again, concern written all over his face. "Maybe we ought to go to hospital and have you checked out."

John shook his head. "I'm fine, love," he said without realizing. "Perfectly fine. I just need to be here, Home." _With you,_ he couldn't help thinking.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was carefully putting his untouched cup on the side table, an unreadable expression on his face. "John," he said, his voice calm. "You called me love."

 _Bloody hell,_ John cursed under his breath as he put his cup down as well. "I'm sorry," he managed to get out, imagining Sherlock storming out, going to his brother, sending him back to Afghanistan. Leaving him alone all over again.

Sherlock remained calm. "You love me?" he asked. "Because...because I feel the same way about you."

john blinked. "You do? really?"

Sherlock nodded. "Desperately." He closed his eyes and reached for the doctor's hand. "My John...darling..."

And when did **that** happen? "Never been anyone's darling before this,' he said, twining their fingers together and squeezing, his heart soaring when Sherlock squeezed back. "It's nice. Wonderful."

"Marvelous,' Sherlock said, moving even closer. "I've wanted to tell you for as long as I've known you...but I've only just now found the courage." He ducked his head down. "I've dreamed about you...about us. Often.'

"So have I," John said as he pressed his leg against Sherlock's. "Too many times to count."

"John?" A finger touched his cheek, waiting for an answer. "May I?"

"Please." John let himself be drawn into a kiss.

Sherlock let out a soft sigh as he was bent back against the sofa cushions. "My John," he breathed as John kissed him right below his left ear. "Please, my darling."

 _Love you,_ John thought as he hovered over Sherlock, kissing his way down his throat to the collar of his purple shirt. He began to slowly undo the little pearl buttons. _So bloody beautiful._

"Wait, John. Wait,' Sherlock pleaded, drawing away enough to look at him. "Can we,,we should move this to a bed."

"Brilliant," John said, dragging Sherlock to his feet. "Show me the way."

"My darling John," Sherlock whispered as he led the doctor down the hall. "I do love you. More than my life." He drew John into another kiss, cupping his face in his hands. "You are everything to me."

John laughed as he sat down on Sherlock's bed and kicked off is shoes and socks. "And I fancy you quite a bit, too," he said. "Come here, love. Let me kiss you again."

Sherlock eased himself into John's embrace, laying them both down on top of the cashmere throw. "Look at you," he marveled as he pulled John's jumper over his head and tossed it to the floor. "So perfect...so exquisite...my John."

"Sherlock,' John breathed as he was kissed yet again. "Yes...please, love...yes."

Sherlock laid down next to him, one hand sliding over John's bare chest before fingering the waistband of is trousers. "May I remove these?" he asked. 

"Yours go, too," John said as Sherlock's shirt joined John's jumper. "Everything. I want to see you."

Soon they were both naked and clutching each other close, trading messy kisses back and forth. John rolled over enough to end up under Sherlock, his eyes bright as he stared up at him. "Take me," he said, his voice a bare whisper. "Fuck me."

"Love you, John," Sherlock corrected. He thought for a moment, finally shaking his head. "Condoms...lubricant...do we have anything?"

John reached for his pants. Lube could always be improvised, but they needed protection. "My wallet." A quick search turned up nothing. "Bugger," the doctor cursed, giving Sherlock a hopeful look. "You?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I'm afraid not." He pressed himself against john, his body flush against the doctor's. "We can do it like this?"

John nodded as he began to move. "Yes," he gasped, clutching at Sherlock's shoulders. "Please, my love...please..."

"Yes, John," Sherlock managed to get out. "My darling...my own...love you...love you so much...my John."

"Sherlock!" John cried out, his body shaking as he came. Sherlock came himself a moment later, John's name a whisper on his lips.

They cuddled close after, calming each other with careful touches and soft kisses. "Sherlock..." John whispered. "My heart...love you."

"And I love you." He laid his head against John's. his arms sliding around him. "Stay with me?'

"Always," John said as he cleaned them both up as best he could with his discarded underwear. he tossed it aside before cuddling close. "Forever if you like."

"I would very much." Sherlock closed his eyes. "My John." He drifted off to sleep. John following him not a moment later.


End file.
